


I've Been Wishin' Upon You

by exolimelight



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: EXOLimelight2017, Famous!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12426789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exolimelight/pseuds/exolimelight
Summary: Running a fansite for up and coming Chinese idol Luhan wasn’t in Sehun’s plans for an easy A on his arts final, but he finds himself with a camera in his hands most Friday nights anyway.





	I've Been Wishin' Upon You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #118  
> Pairing: Sehun/Luhan  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Word count: 8000+

_**aperture (n):**  
a space through which light passes in an optical or photographic instrument, especially the variable opening by which light enters a camera _

Sehun is six when he first picks up a camera.

It’s one of those shitty, one-use, disposable cameras, with the Kodak logo on the side and hard plastic cover. It’s probably a leftover from their last vacation. In any case, it’s enough for what he intends to do with it, which is to take pictures of Chanyeol attempting to drop a spider down the new kid on the block’s back.

(Which did not go well. Zitao, as the duo soon learns, is both deathly afraid of spiders and strangers, and the shots Sehun gets of Chanyeol looking flabbergasted with a multicolored blur in the corner aren’t really worth getting developed anyway.)

 

 

_**bokeh (n):**  
the visual quality of the out-of-focus areas of a photographic image, especially as rendered by a particular lens _

The next time Sehun picks up a camera, it’s several years later, and he doesn’t do it by choice.

“What are you doing for the final?” Judging by the fact that Chanyeol’s busy trying to rearrange his hair into a somewhat attractive look, (it never works, but Sehun’s not about to shatter that illusion—he still depends on Chanyeol to drive him places) Sehun determines that Minseok is walking by. Sure enough, he lifts his head and sees Minseok flash a smile in their general direction.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol hisses under his breath. By this point, Sehun’s gotten used to it.

“I’m not sure yet,” he says instead, and watches as Chanyeol tries to track his train of thought back to the final. To Sehun’s surprise, it works.

“I’m probably going to mess around with the piano again.” Chanyeol shrugs, and waves enthusiastically at Zitao.

Sehun’s a little jealous, because knowing Chanyeol, by “messing around with the piano” he means “full-on composition shit,” which means one more overachiever that Sehun needs to find a way to balance out.

The problem is that Sehun really doesn’t know what to do. The arts final is one of their biggest finals of the year, which sounds lame and is lame, but he doesn’t really have a choice. The arts department had argued for years with their school district about there being a lack of appreciation for the arts, and this was the compromise they’d come up with. Because the logical solution, of course, is to place more work on the students. Sehun wants to dropkick the president of the school board.

He’s not particularly skilled in any field of art. Chanyeol would argue that Sehun’s not skilled in any field, period, but Sehun has long since learned to tune Chanyeol out as much as possible. Either way, Chanyeol’s going with music again, and Zitao’s sticking with his weirdly soothing slam poetry. Which leaves Sehun as the only one undecided. And that’s an issue, because he needs to hand in the selection form by tomorrow.

Then again, the first time doing the art final is always an… experience. So Chanyeol has said.

At any point, Sehun is tired of worrying about something that won’t have an effect on his life in the long run, so he ends up throwing darts at his sheet of paper and listing his preferences in the order that the three land.

By the time he hands the form in, he’s long since forgotten what he’d circled and has instead started worrying about how much longer he has until he can eat. You know, priorities.

 

 

**burst mode (n):**  
several photographs captured in quick succession by either pressing the shutter button or holding it down. this is used mainly when the subject is in successive motion, such as sports photography.  
see also: continuous high speed 

“I didn’t know you liked photography,” Zitao comments on their way to Literature, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t.” Sehun frowns. “Why would you think that I like photography?”

“The assignments just got posted. You’re in the photography section for the final.” Zitao says, then turns back when he realizes Sehun isn’t walking next to him. “Sehun?”

“I’m in photography?” Sehun repeats, and Zitao nods in affirmation.

“Professor Wu’s your teacher.” 

“Oh,” Sehun says, and by then they’ve reached the door of their Literature classroom and are busy stammering out excuses for being late.

Honestly though, Sehun thinks, tuning out of a fascinating discussion on the deeper meaning of the juxtaposition between good and evil, it could’ve been a lot worse. He could literally take ten pictures of the ground and submit that as his final, and it’d just take him five seconds to do it. The hard part is making that sound artistically challenging and creative, but Sehun has long since mastered the art of bullshitting, and figures that that won’t be too bad either. It really could be a lot worse though. He could be stuck with like, acting, or (he shudders internally) jewelry. All those tiny beads and wires would be the death of him.

So Sehun saunters into his first photography session with a large amount of confidence and gets ready for an hour long discussion of “the artist’s vision”. Except that these students all have nice, professional digital cameras. As in, not iPhones. Shit. He is wildly unprepared.

“Are you Sehun?” A freakishly tall guy at the front wearing what looks to be fake glasses is looking at him, so Sehun nods in affirmation and figures that this guy must be Professor Wu.

“I’m Yifan,” he says, and Sehun blinks because, uh. Aren’t you not supposed to call professors by their first name?

Professor Wu—Yifan—must sense his hesitation, because he explains, “We’re all very relaxed here. That way you can find your inner zen.”

Sehun nods slowly. He’s not quite sure what else to do.

“Don’t worry,” one of the students whispers to him. “Yifan’s always been a little out of it.”

Sehun does an awkward half bow in thanks, and the student looks at him for a bit before patting the chair next to him and gesturing Sehun to sit down.

“I’m Jongdae,” he says, “this is Baekhyun.” He points to the guy with copper hair to his right, who’s in the middle of trying to use the strap of his camera as a lasso. “We’re in our second year.”

“First.” Sehun says, and usually this is where the conversation lapses into silence.

That is, if the conversation was between Sehun and anyone else.

“So, do you want in on the bet?” Baekhyun says, leaning forwards towards him.

Sehun resists the urge to lean back and appear weak. He is not weak. “Bet? What bet?”

Jongdae bats away Baekhyun’s hand. “Half the class thinks Yifan and Junmyeon are fucking already and the other half thinks they’re both too busy awkwardly flirting to hook up.”

“Uh,” Sehun stammers, “who’s Junmyeon?”

“Pottery teacher,” Jongdae explains, jabbing a finger at the door to the side marked “Pottery”.

“Just saying,” Baekhyun cuts in, “Jongdae and I are split on this, so you need to be the tiebreaker between the two of us for our personal bet.”

Sehun is so lost. “What?”

“Baekhyun’s convinced that they’ve got their act together already. Or that they’re FWBs at least.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Which is utter bull, considering that they can’t even look each other in the eye.”

“Because Junmyeon’s embarrassed that he came first, duh,” Baekhyun says, and Jongdae responds by stabbing him with his elbow.

“So,” he continues, ignoring Baekhyun’s yelp of pain, “you need to choose. Which side are you on?”

“Um,” Sehun repeats.

He’s saved from coming up with an answer by the screech of a megaphone.

“Hello,” Yifan says, taking a swig out of a liter bottle of Mountain Dew. “You shits are here to learn the fine craft of looking at things and clicking buttons. Well,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect. “I am here to be your photographic and spiritual advisor.” He scrunches his nose. “You’re going to need to pay extra for the spiritual part though.”

“Is he being serious?” Sehun tries to whisper to Jongdae, only to be cut off by Baekhyun shushing him.

“This is the best part,” Baekhyun hisses.

“So here’s your first assignment.” Yifan leans back in his chair and clears his throat. “Whoever takes the best candid of me wins a cash prize. Or just a prize. Not drugs or sex though. I can’t promise that.”

Sehun blinks.

“Dismissed!”

He looks at the clock. It’s been roughly six minutes.

“A candid?” Baekhyun’s muttering to Jongdae, “how the fuck are we supposed to take a candid of that guy? He has like, gaydar, but for paparazzi. Papdar.”

Jongdae makes a face. “Okay, that’s just wrong.”

Sehun hurries to catch up with them. “Did he really mean that? Any prize?”

“Oh yeah.” Jongdae nods. “He always gives out prizes for the first assignment. And he always makes good on that promise. Once some kid got a Maserati.”

Sehun whistles. “How’d he get the money?”

“He’s loaded.” Baekhyun shrugs. “No one really knows. The one time we asked him about it, he just sighed and muttered ‘Poor people’ under his breath.”

“That’s why so many people sign up for photography,” Jongdae says, shoving his camera into his locker. “There’s always a bet on who wins too. I think this year Hyungwon’s in the lead.”

“I heard it was Minhyuk,” Baekhyun remarks, before turning to Sehun. “Well? Do you have a strategy?”

“What?” Sehun gets a feeling that he’s going to be saying that a lot around these two.

“Your strategy,” Baekhyun prompts. “How you’re going to get close to Yifan without him noticing.”

“Especially since he has a homing beacon specifically for cameras,” Jongdae chimes in, and Baekhyun nods in agreement.

“Uh,” Sehun says, “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Good luck.” Jongdae claps him on the shoulder and Sehun tries not to wince. “You’ll need it.”

 

 

**continuous focus (n):**  
a mode on a photographic instrument for keeping moving targets sharp within the viewfinder and increasing the chances of getting a sharper image.  
see also: autofocus, al servo 

Whoever he’d been in his past life must’ve been a fucking saint or something, because a week later, Sehun’s the one who claims that prize.

“How’d you do it?” Baekhyun asks, peering over his shoulder at Sehun’s shot of Yifan mid laugh, sunlight forming a halo around him. There’s a perfectly positioned sun flare in the upper left corner, and the sky that day had been the right shade of blue to complement Yifan’s yellow jumper.

“Amazing,” Yifan proclaims, “I want to get a six foot cardboard cutout of this.”

“Thanks,” Sehun manages.

“Also, you mainly won because this is the perfect amount of classy and sassy that you need in social media profile photos.” Yifan nods sagely, like he’s passing on words of wisdom, and Sehun notices some of the class scribbling his words down with a ferocious intensity.

“So,” Yifan leans forward against his chair, “what’s it this time. A pool? A house? Usually people just ask for me to cover their tuition.”

“I don’t know.” Sehun admits to the jeers of the rest of the class.

“He’s giving you a free ride through uni!” Someone calls out, with many others exclaiming in agreement.

“I don’t like being in debt.” Yifan takes off his glasses and squints at him. “So you need to decide, pronto.”

“Can you give me another week?” Sehun forces out, and Yifan purses his lips.

“Interesting.” He pulls out another liter of soda—this time it’s Diet Pepsi— and takes a swig from it. “I’ll take it. I want the proposal by 4:87am on Sunday.”

“That’s not a time.” Sehun tries.

“No excuses!” Yifan waggles a finger at him. “You don’t hand it in on time, I’m giving your spot to someone else.” He scans the room. “Wonhyung. That’s you.”

“My name’s Hyungwon.” The boy says.

“Hyungsik, Wonhyo, same thing. Either way—dude with the eyebrows—you don’t tell me what you want, the other kid gets it.” 

Sehun swallows hard. “Okay,” he says, and the bell rings then.

“4:78am!” Yifan booms behind him, and Sehun decides against correcting him.

“Got it,” he says, and then he’s being pushed out of the classroom by the horde of students.

 

 

_**exposure (n):**  
the amount of light per unit area (the image plane illuminance multiplied by the exposure time) reaching a photographic film or electronic image sensor, as determined by shutter speed, lens aperture, and scene luminance_

_**yifan’s a lil bitch (3)** _

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
we need to celebrate!!!  
are u legal yet?????

 _from: papdar_  
pshhh a little bit won’t hurt

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch (3)_  
my birthday was in april 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
oh nice nice that’s good  
also @baekhyun fuck you i want a clean record

 _from: papdar_  
didn’t you ruin yours back in sixth grade

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
shHHHH public indecency doesn’t count  
and that was a fucking dare  
also sehun doesn’t know about that yet shut up

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch (3)_  
jongdae???? public indecency????? 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
no

 _from: papdar_  
yes

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
NO

 _from: papdar_  
remind me to tell you the story before i get to the alcohol

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
noted 

_from: papdar_  
im highkey jealous because i was totally going to get him to buy me a flamethrower

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
you do know what you want right?  
also baekhyun what the fuck no  
you can’t even handle the stove by yourself

 _from: papdar_  
YOU CAN’T EITHER

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
touche

 _from: papdar_  
*touché  
we use accents here  
we are classy pieces of shit

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
says you 

_from: papdar_  
am i supposed to be hurt

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
oK BUT  
seriously what are u thinking of asking for

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
i still have no idea 

_from: papdar_  
im just saying, the flamethrower isn’t a bad idea

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
vetoed  
we’ll figure it out later, probably

 _from: papdar_  
but speaking of the celebration,,,

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
right

 _from: papdar_  
how do you feel about a  
kaisoo concert

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
what  
how the FUCK are you going to get tickets 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
please

 _from: papdar_  
we’ve got the connections

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
still??? three tickets???? 

_from: papdar_  
not just three

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
yeah! bring some of ur friends  
hell bring all of them

 _from: papdar_  
he doesn’t have any other friends though

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
… 

_from: papdar_  
see look he’s not even denying it

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
ok whatever we’re not here to talk about sehun’s social life  
although seriously dude  
you need to work on that

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
thanks 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
how does friday 6pm sound?

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
uh sure  
im still not convinced that you can get the tickets 

_from: papdar_  
oh mygod  
have some faith in us  
also what’s his face  
the guy with the ears

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
chanyeol? 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
no baek that’s the one we’ve already done  
we need to send the ticket to the other one

 _from: papdar_  
oh right

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
what 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
wasn’t it zitao? yeah

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
how do you just? know this? 

_from: the normaler one, kinda_  
once again  
have some faith in us

 _from: papdar_  
ha how do u think he’ll react when he sees where the seats are

 _from: the normaler one, kinda_  
explode, probably

_to: yifan’s a lil bitch_  
uh 

**focus (n):**  
the position at which rays of light from a lens converge to form a clear and sharply defined image on a focal plane

Baekhyun and Jongdae do it.

Those fuckers manage to get five front row tickets to a Do Kyungsoo and Kim Jongin concert. Kaisoo.

“How the fuck?” Zitao says, and Sehun just shakes his head at him.

“Dude, if I wasn’t already convinced that Minseok is the manifestation of all things holy on earth, I would seriously worship those abs.” Chanyeol gestures at one of the flyers that had been handed out, which depicts Jongin in the process of taking off his shirt. 

“Wonderful,” Sehun remarks.

Kyungsoo and Jongin are a bit unique, as far as idols go, since they’re a duo. Not that duos aren’t common or anything, but Kyungsoo and Jongin are unique in the sense that Kyungsoo only sings and Jongin only dances. 

“Okay but where are your friends from the photography thing?” Zitao asks, whipping his head around. (And yet not destroying his styled hair in the process. It has to be a superpower. There’s no way he’s human.)

“They said they had to go get something.”

Chanyeol makes a face. “Are they ditching us? Wait, that wouldn’t make sense.” He waves the flyer around wildly. “Who would give up numero uno seats to these abs?”

“Minseok’s going to think you’ve abandoned him,” Zitao remarks dryly.

“I’m allowed to appreciate the other fine specimens life has to offer,” Chanyeol shoots back.

“Hi!” Jongdae appears, carting what looks to be a fucking telescope on his shoulder.

“Um,” Sehun stutters, because Chanyeol and Zitao don’t notice anything out of the ordinary and rush forward to introduce themselves.

“Did we miss anything?” Baekhyun’s holding a telescope too—seriously, what’s up with that?—and makes rounds to everyone too.

“The telescopes?” Sehun tries, only to be met with four identical sets of blank looks.

“You mean this?” Jongdae hefts the thing on his shoulder higher. Sehun nods, and he must be missing out on something, because everyone else starts laughing.

“Is there a joke or something?”

Of course, with his luck, everyone just starts laughing even harder.

“They’re cameras.” Jongdae manages between giggles. He gestures between him and Baekhyun. “We run a joint fansite for Kyungsoo and Jongin. That’s how we got the tickets.”

“How the hell did you win that photography thing anyway?” Chanyeol giggles into his hand.

“Oh.” Sehun says, then squints at Zitao and Chanyeol. “Wait. You knew about this?”

“Um, yeah,” Zitao snickers, “you didn’t?”

Maybe Sehun should just take Zitao’s Gucci phone case hostage and ask questions later. Yeah, that sounds good.

He’s reaching out to snatch it when the lights suddenly dim, and then he’s too busy grabbing at his ears to worry about Zitao anymore.

“Oh my god,” he starts, but a quick look at everyone around him tells Sehun that apparently he’s the only one blessed with inferior eardrums. “How can you stand the noise?”

“What?” Jongdae yells—or tries to, anyway—and Sehun shakes his head in response.

It’s not even Kaisoo that’s going on stage. A glance down at the flyer in Chanyeol’s hands tells him that the opening act is someone called “Luhan”, whoever that is. There’s a small picture included to the side, but Sehun can’t make it out. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he mutters under his breath, watching the people around him hold up elaborate signs made with neon wires. There’s even a group of guys who each brandish a letter of Luhan’s name on their stomach in obnoxiously bright green paint. Okay, so maybe this guy isn’t as much of a nobody as he originally thought.

The crowd gets even louder when the guy actually appears on stage. Sehun cranes his neck to the right to get a better view, and—oh. Oh wow.

This Luhan guy is all slender limbs and bright eyes, even in the dim of the arena, and suddenly Sehun wishes he’d brought a sign of his own.

“Hi everyone!” he calls out, and Sehun feels himself swallowing. His voice is bright and clear and Sehun wants to fucking die. Why didn’t anyone warn him?

“Are you okay?” Jongdae asks, nudging Sehun’s arm with his elbow, and now Sehun gets why Baekhyun had cried out when Jongdae elbowed him. Jongdae has knives for joints, jesus christ.

“F-fine,” he says, but Chanyeol’s caught on that something isn’t right and immediately smirks when he pieces it together. Sehun wants to throttle him.

“He’s not Minseok, but he’s pretty hot too,” Chanyeol murmurs into his ear.

Sehun settles for digging his camera out of his bag and snapping photos to get away from Chanyeol’s persistent nagging.

It’s more than just a convenient way to get Chanyeol off of his back. Sehun finds that he’s able to see clearer through the viewfinder, and manages to capture the gentle tilt of Luhan’s head, the way his eyes crinkle at the edges and how his cheekbones disappear when he smiles.

When Luhan starts singing though, it gets harder.

Sehun’s distracted by the softness in his voice. It melts, honey-smooth, light and airy. He wishes his camera had a video option.

He’s in the middle of trying to convince Baekhyun to take a video on his fucking bazooka of a camera when Luhan switches songs and dives into dancing, matching the beat.

What the fuck. Sehun ignores Chanyeol’s suggestive look. How is someone able to transition from angelic and sweet and cute into deadly in the span of like, a second? His throat is dry. He channels his newfound inability to do anything into persuading Baekhyun to take more videos. No way is he missing out on this.

“You need to tone down the thirst,” Zitao says into his ear. “Desperate isn’t a good look on you.”

“Shut up,” Sehun shoots back for lack of anything better to say.

Zitao shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

Sehun doesn’t manage to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the concert.

 

 

**flash synchronization (n):**  
a method of synchronizing the firing of a photographic flash with the opening of the shutter admitting light to photographic film or electronic image sensor.  
see also: flash sync 

He rubs at his eyes. It’s getting pretty late, and Sehun has photography at eight tomorrow. He should probably sleep.

He clicks on the next article instead. Fuck reasonable sleep schedules.

There’s nothing new here. He learns the same things he’d learnt an hour earlier—that Luhan’s from China, signed with the same label as Kaisoo, was scouted randomly off the streets and passed the audition, is now currently promoting as a solo artist. He’s too new to have anything substantial on the internet, although his popularity is predicted to rise pretty quickly.

Sehun clicks on another article anyway.

 

 

_**ISO (n):**  
measures the sensitivity of the image sensor. the lower the number, the less sensitive the camera is to light. the higher the number, the more sensitive the camera is to light (hence making it suitable for darker situations) _

“Dude, your final project went viral.”

Sehun glances at Baekhyun’s laptop, reaching over to turn the brightness up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, look.” Baekhyun points at their school’s twitter account, where all the arts finals have been uploaded. “Yours has five point three million likes and two point nine million retweets.”

“Holy fuck,” Sehun says, because that’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous when all he’d done was turn in some photos of Luhan that he’d taken at the Kaisoo concert, wrote something about the new generation’s fixation on perfection in the entertainment industry for his artist’s statement, and called it a day.

Sehun starts scrolling through some of the replies.

 _LU (deerhan) Replying to @SNUArts:_ ohmygod finally there are HD photos of luhan

 _鹿晗 (lvhan) Replying to @SNUArts:_ OMG!!

 _lulu (ohluhan) Replying to @SNUArts:_ is this a fansite????

 _l u h a n (luhannie) Replying to @SNUArts:_ he’s so cute my heart can’t take it

 _루한 (lu_han) Replying to @SNUArts:_ WE LOVE YOU  <3

“This is your legacy.” Yifan nods at him seriously. Sehun doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t think he’ll ever know how to respond to Yifan.

“You can’t just stop here,” Jongdae says, “look at all your fans.”

Baekhyun hums in agreement. “You should start a fansite! I don’t think Luhan has one yet.”

Sehun’s overwhelmed. “Why would I do that?”

“You’d probably get to go to a lot of concerts for free.” Jongdae starts listing on his fingers. “Since you’ve already got a fanbase to some extent, it’ll be easier for you.”

“Plus, it’s fun.” Baekhyun grins. “We can help you.”

“By the way,” Yifan cuts in, “you still need to send me the thing. Otherwise the other guy gets it. Uh, whoever he is.”

“Hyungwon,” Hyungwon supplies helpfully.

Yifan waves him off. “Sure, sure, whatever, Hyunwoo.”

 

 

**long exposure (n):**  
a type of photography that involves using a long-duration shutter speed to sharply capture the stationary elements of images while blurring, smearing, or obscuring the moving elements  
see also: time exposure, slow shutter 

Against his better judgement and after a lot of nagging from Baekhyun and Jongdae, Sehun agrees to their idea.

“The first thing you need to do is choose the social media platform,” Jongdae’s saying, Baekhyun nodding next to him. “I’d suggest Twitter since your project went viral there, right? Plus, a lot of fansites are on Twitter.”

“Also, you need a name,” Baekhyun chimes in.

Jongdae nods. “It’s gotta be a cute name though. Like a pun.”

“Puns are always a safe choice.”

Sehun balks. “I thought all I needed to do was just upload pictures?”

“I mean, yeah. But you need to brand yourself too.” Jongdae says, like this is common knowledge.

“You don’t have to be a econ major to know that.” Baekhyun frowns at him. 

“Okay.” Sehun sighs. “What’s the name?”

“Well, his name means deer, right?” Jongdae says, tilting his head to the side. “There’s so many puns you could make with that.”

“Adeerable. Fawned of You. Oh Deer.” Baekhyun scrunches his face. “Love You Deerly?”

Jongdae’s already typing on the computer. “Good. And you’re pretty much done!”

Sehun looks blankly at the screen. He is now the proud owner of his own little corner of the internet. Not that he hasn’t had social media before, but well. He supposes that this is new. 

“There you go!” Baekhyun beams at him. “Now you have an excuse to go to concerts.”

“Not that you need one.” Jongdae adds.

“Right.” Sehun says slowly.

 

 

_**manual (n):**  
a mode that allows the photographer control over various parameters of an exposure _

As Sehun soon finds out, he does not simply “just upload pictures”. 

Not only does he have to go to a shit ton of concerts where he’s basically snapping away the entire time, but he also has to sort through and compile all of the photos afterwards, which is a huge fucking nightmare, especially when it happens after all of his classes.

Plus, there’s the fact that cameras aren’t even allowed inside the venue, which he had to find out the hard way because Baekhyun and Jongdae never deigned to tell him. (Thanks a lot.) So he has to convince someone else to sneak in the camera for him.

It helps though, to mention that he is, in fact, the one running “Love You Deerly” (Seriously, they couldn’t have picked a better name?) and that yes, he’s male, not female, please just take the camera and go.

Thankfully, Luhan’s still pretty new and doesn’t have enough concerts that it would completely wreck Sehun’s grades (Sehun can do that for himself, thanks), but he also has enough to keep Sehun pretty busy.

Baekhyun and Jongdae, on the other hand. Wow. Sehun would be dead if he were them.

“Doesn’t it get tiring after a while?” Sehun asks as Baekhyun collapses into the chair next to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” Baekhyun shrugs. “We’ve gotten used to it though.”

Sehun nods, but he still doesn’t get it.

 

 

_**noise (n):**  
commonly-used term to describe visual distortion. looks similar to grain found in film photographs, but can also look like splotches of discoloration and can ruin a photograph. _

That is, until he does. Because no matter how many concerts he attends, Sehun never seems to get tired of them.

The music still invigorates him, the pure energy floating throughout the venue—something hard to come by for someone who likes to shut himself inside his room and stay there for hours at a time. Sure, Sehun will admit that he used to come purely for Luhan’s face, but now he’s having fun. He reads through the replies on Twitter when he’s got some downtime, exchanges photography tips with other fansites. It’s like a little virtual bubble.

Tonight, Sehun glances up and makes eye contact with Luhan; something that’s been happening more and more frequently. Luhan throws him a small smile before looking back out, and Sehun feels the corners of his mouth involuntarily turning up in response.

It’s nice. He likes this. It’s easy, simple, and reliable. He’s got a role to play, and he does it well. And people appreciate that. The ease with which he falls into this routine is startling, to some extent, but Sehun doesn’t mind.

What isn’t a part of the routine, however, is one of the security guards tapping him on the back and asking to search him.

And fuck. Cameras—big heavy, expensive ones—aren’t allowed inside the venue. Sehun has one of said cameras. Sehun knows this. The security guard knows this. Sehun is once again, fucked.

He’s just about to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness before promising to never commit such a terrible sin again when someone comes to his rescue and says, “Jaebum—lay off. This one’s fine.”

Sehun glances up at his rescuer and—wow. Okay. No high definition photograph could’ve prepared him for the real thing. Luhan stands there running a hand through hair tinged with sweat, still not fully changed out of his concert getup. 

“He has a camera.” Sehun whips back to the security guard when he realizes that right, he’s here too. Said security guard has his arms crossed and is glaring at Sehun. Sehun gulps.

Luhan rolls his eyes. “And I’ve said that he’s allowed to have one.”

Sehun shifts uncomfortably from side to side. To his left, the security guard—Jaebum?—exhales loudly.

“Thanks!” Luhan chirps, throwing out a wink that did not last anywhere near long enough, according to Sehun. He watches Jaebum leave—is he smiling?—before the manners his Mom taught him kick in and he rushes to apologize.

“He was right, I really do have a camera and I shouldn’t have it I know I’m sorry I can leave right now it’s not an issue—”

Luhan is laughing. Sehun stops. Why is he laughing?

“That’s too cute.” Luhan gasps out, and Sehun can feel his face turning red instantly. “Did Jaebum really scare you that badly? He’s completely harmless. Wait ‘til you see him around Jackson.”

Sehun’s eyes widen. Shouldn’t he be getting kicked out right about now?

“I’m Luhan. I’ve been meaning to say hi to you for a while.” 

Sehun glances down at the outstretched hand, before looking back up at Luhan. “M-me? Are you sure?”

Luhan grins. “Yeah. You’re the cutie with the camera in the front rows usually, right?”

Sehun blinks. Cutie? 

“Um,” he manages, which only makes Luhan giggle.

“There’s some pizza backstage. Do you want some? Oh no, are you even free right now? I probably should’ve asked that first.” Luhan frowns at him.

Sehun conveniently forgets that he needs to write two essays that are both due by the end of the week and says, “Y-yeah, that sounds good.”

 

_**RAW (n):**  
a file format that captures all image data recorded by the sensor when a photo is taken but does not compress any information _

Luhan is an entirely different person offstage, Sehun decides.

Sure, he’s still pretty and his smiles still blind Sehun effortlessly, but what definitely isn’t the same is the way that he chows down on two slices of pizza piled on top if each other, throwing what seems to be his manager the middle finger when said manager glares.

“You’re supposed to be dieting,” he calls out.

“And I’m also not supposed to bring people backstage, but look at how well that worked out. ” Luhan shoots back. He offers a slice to Sehun. “Want one?”

Sehun can slowly start to see the traces of exhaustion lining everyone’s faces. The area below Luhan’s eyes are beginning to turn purple and the corners of his eyes are crinkled. The backup dancers have collectively piled onto each other and form a mass of bodies on the floor.

“Is this always what happens after shows?” Sehun asks, hyper aware that everyone has been staring at him out of curiosity ever since he entered the room.

“Pretty much,” Luhan says. “The only difference is that now you’re here.”

Sehun can quite literally feel the tips of his ears growing hot. Someone from within the pile of dancers groans.

“Shut up, Jackson.” Luhan yells, smile forming. “You’re not much better. But yeah,” Luhan shrugs, turning back to Sehun, “this is kind of it. It’s nothing special.”

Sehun looks around him, looks at all the managers slumped over in chairs, watches the makeup artists scurry around brandishing makeup wipes, the tech people collecting everyone’s mics. Sure, the aftermath isn’t as glamorous as the actual thing, but Sehun likes it that way. It feels more human. Luhan feels more human.

“It is to me,” he says, watching Luhan brighten.

He also causes more grumbling in the background. “Fuck, and I thought Luhan was bad.”

Luhan rolls his eyes and nudges Sehun again. “More pizza?”

 

 

_**rule of thirds (n):**  
a guideline that is applied by aligning a subject with the guidelines and their intersection points, placing the horizon on the top or bottom line, allowing linear features in the image to flow from section to section _

They make it a point to talk after shows now, which Sehun had not been expecting.

But lo and behold, Jaebum’s once again tapping on his shoulder, only this time with a grimace and a reluctant, “You’re wanted backstage.”

He winds up getting to know Yixing and Jackson more, both back up dancers having a penchant for seeing who can balance the most books on top of Jaebum’s sleeping form.

(Yixing wins with nineteen—Jackson escapes narrowly with the twentieth book in hand as Jaebum’s eyes narrow slowly.)

It’s thrilling, it’s fascinating, and a little bit addicting, to watch all of these lives intersect at the same point. Sehun’s perfectly content to curl up in the corner of the couch as Luhan rambles on about how crowded airports can become and the disgusting protein shakes he once used to drink daily before he decided that he wasn’t going to do that anymore. 

(“You should’ve seen Manager’s face! But it’s okay. Manager’s used to me doing stuff like that now. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.)

But at the same time, it’s painful in the subtlest of ways. Sehun might laugh and watch and listen, but he can also feel himself digging a deeper and deeper hole. The small things, like the way the light catches in Luhan’s eyes, or the way he flicks his head to keep his bangs out of his eyes make Sehun’s breaths come short and his knees shake. 

Sehun goes home every night promising that next time, next time he’ll say no to Luhan’s invitation and finally move on from whatever this obsession is.

(Spoiler Alert: “Next time” is always a day away.)

 

 

**shutter speed (n):**  
the length of time when the film or digital sensor inside the camera is exposed to light. the amount of light that reaches the film or image sensor is proportional to the shutter speed.  
see also: exposure time 

“I think I like him.” Sehun groans at one of his and Baekhyun’s study sessions. (They don’t ever study during them, but it makes Sehun feel more productive than he actually is.)

Baekhyun pauses from sipping his coffee, leading to an impressive foam mustache. “Jongdae?” He wipes off the mustache quickly. “As in, the reason why I have this goddamn mullet? As in, the guy who tried to make ramen and wound up burning my hair off? I mean, your feelings are valid and everything I totally support this—”

Sehun shakes his head. “No. Jongdae’s like, my brother. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve met some people who would—”

“Okay, we’re stopping there.” Sehun cuts in, trying to scrub his mind clean of _that_ image.

“Then who?” Baekhyun frowns, leaning in closer.

Sehun’s cheeks are already turning red. “Luhan,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Sehun says it again, slightly louder this time.

“I couldn’t quite catch that,” Baekhyun says, tipping his ear theatrically. “Could you try one more time?”

“I said, it’s Luhan, fuck you, you totally heard me the first time.”

Baekhyun responds by grinning, before he sobers up. “But wow. Okay. I mean, I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming? Jongdae and I definitely went through the same thing. But I think it really comes down to you.” Baekhyun stirs his coffee absentmindedly. “It’s important to keep in mind that he _is_ an idol, and that that fact causes some difficulties. But if you really like him, I don’t see the issue with telling him at the very least? You just gotta decide if you can wait for it to pass and if you just need to say fuck it and go for it.”

Sehun blinks. “Wow. That was—surprisingly deep.” He waves his hand in front of Baekhyun’s eyes. “You okay there?”

Baekhyun looks up from where he’s manipulating his coffee foam to spell out curse words. “Completely.”

 

_**time-lapse (adj):**  
denoting the photographic technique of taking a sequence of frames at set intervals to record changes that take place slowly over time. when the frames are shown at normal speed, or in quick succession, the action seems much faster. _

University is stressful. Running a fansite is stressful. Dealing with a Luhan who likes to smile at him and make his heart go boom is the most stressful of all. Sehun is about ready to undergo some serious botox treatment if it means that he can sleep for more than two hours at a time.

Unfortunately, that’s not possible, so Sehun does the next best thing: he gets drunk.

It’s one hundred percent lame to show up at a club just by yourself, but Sehun’s feeling pretty desperate and hence midnight finds him four shots into the night and still feeling pretty good (read: wasted).

Someone’s calling for body shots and Sehun’s ready to volunteer. Chanyeol hasn’t been forcing him to the gym for nothing, after all (admittedly, Chanyeol’s sole purpose for going to the gym is to ogle Minseok but—details). 

“Is this seat taken?”

Sehun glances up to his right. His eyesight is kind of shot at this point, so all he can make out is blonde hair and small face. Nice voice though. Familiar too. Clear. Bright. Everything that Sehun, currently, is not.

“Yeah,” he slurs out, hand holding what is now his fifth shot of the night, “help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Probably Pretty Stranger says, grabbing a drink. 

In response, Sehun nods in what he hopes is the right direction.

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you okay? You seem, well…” Probably Pretty Stranger trails off halfway.

Sehun squints. “Okay? Of course I’m okay.” He drawls, before slumping onto the sticky remains of spilled alcohol on the counter. “Okay, no, I’m not fine, but it’s nothing serious. Stress. Uni. I think the guy I like doesn’t like me back. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I feel you.” Probably Pretty Stranger cocks his head to the side. “Especially on that last one.”

“He’s just, so pretty, you know?” Sehun says, trying to prop himself up on his forearms. “And totally out of my league. I mean, I’m a nobody to him. He can do so much better.”

Probably Pretty Stranger frowns and leans forward, and woah. Sehun might be drunk, but he’s not feeling a one night stand tonight, despite how big and pretty said one night stand’s eyes might be. But now said one night stand’s eyes are widening in—horror? Disbelief?

Rude. Sehun is Offended. Sure, he’s not at his best when he’s drunk, but he’s not _that_ bad, right?

“You should probably get home. Where do you live? I’ll call a cab for you.”

Sehun tries to mumble out some kind of address, before collapsing onto the counter and snoring. 

Has he ever mentioned that he makes great first impressions?

 

 

_**viewfinder (n):**  
a device on a camera showing the field of view of the lens, used in framing and focusing the picture _

Sehun squints. It is entirely too bright out for this early in the morning, and his head is killing him. Also, something’s on his face. Why is there something on his face?

He’s up in an instant.

Sehun groggily peels away at the piece of paper taped to his head, flipping it over to read:

_Just want to make sure that you got home okay—call me? - Luhan_

There’s a number on the bottom.

Sehun blinks.

He blinks again.

And then it hits him.

Probably Pretty Stranger? Really? Sehun needs to _get his fucking shit together_ , because Luhan has just seen him drunk off his ass and rambling, rambling about how much he liked him and—

“Oh god,” Sehun mutters in a state of disbelief. “At least I didn’t mention the neck mole thing, right?”

He should ball up the paper and toss it into the trash, then change his name and move to Nova Scotia. It’s supposedly nice this time of year. He’s sorely tempted to do so, but then Baekhyun’s voice telling him to _Fuck it and go for it_ crops up and suddenly the mental image of Baekhyun’s smug face reduced to shock is even more tempting and now he’s scrambling for his phone.

“Hello?”

This was a horrible idea. Sehun should just hang up while he can. He can feel his heart drum into overtime.

“Hi, I think I met you at the bar yesterday?” He coughs. His voice is still raspy from the morning.

“Oh. Oh! Hi! That’s right.” 

Sehun waits. How are you supposed to carry a conversation like this? Jongdae and Baekhyun had been the ones to introduce themselves to him. What’s Sehun supposed to do?

“I’m assuming that you’re calling me because you got home safely—unless you didn’t?”

“No,” Sehun forces out an awkward laugh, “I did. Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem!”

More silence. Sehun wants to die.

“Listen,” Sehun clears his throat, “I’m really sorry that you had to see me like that. I swear I’m not usually that bad when I’m drunk—okay I am, but that’s not the point. The point is, that you can totally stop talking to me and start ignoring me and I would be completely fine with that ( _Liar,_ says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Baekhyun) I don’t want to make this any worse than I already have—”

“Worse? What do you mean?”

Sehun swallows the lump in his throat nervously. “Like, I didn’t mean to actually tell you that I liked you but I don’t have a filter when I’m drunk so it all just came spilling out and I wasn’t trying to make things weird but it just happened you know?”

“Yeah,” Luhan says, voice coming out a little breathy from the speakerphone, “I think I do.”

“So,” Sehun continues before he can lose this sudden nerve, “I’m sorry that you had to go through that and I hope you have a good rest of your life. I’ll be ready to pack for Nova Scotia soon, I promise.”

“Woah.” Sehun can _hear_ Luhan’s frown through the phone and it makes his heart clench. “Why are you suddenly headed for Nova Scotia?”

“Because.” Now Sehun’s the one frowning. “Because I made things awkward! Because I get stressed easily and then I liked you but you don’t like me and now—”

“Who said I don’t like you?”

Sehun’s eyes grow to the size of frying pans.

“Hello? You still there?”

Sehun forces himself to stay calm. He starts coughing furiously anyways. “Y-yeah, yeah I am. I just. What?”

“Sehun,” Luhan says, and now Sehun can tell that he’s rolling his eyes in the way that he does, “you are so dumb.”

Sehun squawks indignantly. “What?”

“Do you think Jaebum just happened to corner you that day? That you just got unlucky?”

“Well—”

“Don’t answer that.” Luhan says quickly. “But I wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t interested.”

Sehun blinks. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Luhan says mockingly, and now Sehun really does feel kind of dumb.

“Then, um,” Sehun clears his throat, “do you want to grab coffee sometime? Like, a date. I’m trying to ask you out. Unless you don’t want it to be a date? That’d be fine too. But I mean, I just—”

“Sehun.” Luhan cuts in. “Yes. That sounds fine. Stop worrying.”

“Okay,” Sehun says, still in a state of delirious euphoria, “okay. I’ll see you? Around?”

“Yeah.” Sehun can hear the smile in Luhan’s voice. “Yeah, you will.”

He’s still clutching his phone even though the line has long since gone dead when Zitao walks by.

“You good?” Zitao asks, poking his head in the doorway.

“Just peachy,” Sehun says, then flings his phone across the room when Zitao leaves.

 

_**epilogue (n):**  
a section or speech at the end of a book or play that serves as a comment on or a conclusion to what has happened _

“I can’t believe your fansite days are over.” Chanyeol says, nudging Sehun’s arm.

“Yeah,” Sehun shrugs. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and does his best to ignore the cameras pointed at him. “It seemed fitting though.”

“We’re all alone now.” Baekhyun cries out, collapsing onto Jongdae’s arm. “Look at him, he’s all grown up now.”

“Picking up his boyfriend from the airport,” Jongdae wipes away a fake tear. “Whatever will we do now?”

“Who will come to concerts with us? Who will agree that Junmyeon and Yifan are totally fucking they’re just having a hard time admitting it—”

“No one,” Zitao grimaces. “That’s just you.”

“Actually, they went on a date yesterday.” Sehun chimes in, only for Baekhyun to zero in on him immediately.

“Really? You didn’t tell us earlier?”

“Well yeah,” Sehun says, shrugging. “Yifan just confessed yesterday. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Hah!” Jongdae shouts, pointing victoriously at Baekhyun. “You heard him—the guy only confessed yesterday. Pay up.”

“I think this fucking mullet is enough compensation already, thanks.” Baekhyun grumbles, but grudgingly pulls out his wallet anyway. “How much was it again?”

“Fifty thousand won.”

“What? No way. You’re making that up.”

“I’m not! Look, I can literally pull up the text messages.”

“Yeah, and you’ll see that we agreed on thirty thousand!”

“That’s a lie and you know it—”

“Guys!” Sehun cuts in. “He’s here.”

Sehun watches Luhan step out of customs, face mask pulled up but the outlines of a grin still underneath. His hair is messy and his face is puffy from the nap he probably took on the plane, wearing a snapback in an attempt to disguise it even though Sehun can see the flyaways immediately. Somehow, he makes it work.

“Hi,” he whispers, watching Luhan’s face brighten.

“Hi back,” Luhan says, and in this moment Sehun can pretend that the screaming and the camera flashes and the crowds don’t exist.

That is, until Baekhyun opens his mouth.

“Jongdae! I just got another shot for chocotaro—can you upload it?”

Which reminds him. He and Luhan now have a joint “fansite,” meaning that Baekhyun and Jongdae take pictures of them when they’re not looking and them upload it to twitter. They’ve gained twenty thousand followers. Chanyeol’s been begging for the password for ages. Jackson sometimes submits his stealth photos of Jaebum too.

“You look terrible,” Sehun lies in an attempt to distract himself from the cameras.

“And you know exactly what to say after someone’s just had a twelve hour flight.” Luhan shoots back, but he’s smiling, and Sehun knows that he doesn’t mean it when he reaches down to intertwine their fingers. “Let’s blow this joint, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sehun echoes back. “Sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you thank you thank you to the mods of this fest!! i was trying to limit the fests/exchanges i do but the prompts were just,,, so good. another thank you to two of my favorite people in the world, which include my soupmate, who will always bring up the exo trash incident, and my mom, who is less than a year younger than me. thank u!!!
> 
>  
> 
> disclaimers: a) i do not mean to shit on photography in any way i swear yifan is just,,,, yifan bc [this](http://68.media.tumblr.com/8e6d3b8b5798df08f539a2bed220a219/tumblr_inline_nua6u0T6dC1r8x9ve_500.png) [was](http://68.media.tumblr.com/b8e2be000d544310b5ba6a393bfc9f85/tumblr_inline_nqp7jzilBm1trmtjn_500.jpg) [asking](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/eb/5f/03/eb5f03753b6fc48dd2cf0f1027a4b85e.jpg) [for](https://nitaoktavi.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/wpid-img_20150625_115134.jpg) [it](https://68.media.tumblr.com/8a58b75a959a61cee90c47ba70f08875/tumblr_nqiyq4CaB41thdu3zo1_500.jpg) b) pls bear with me on the ages they’re a mess i know c) the definitions are all from google i think d) i have never gone to university/college + have v little experience with photography/fansites! so pls pls call me out if something’s off thank u and lastly e) title from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uz_0W3iNNY)


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